


Lonely People Do Stupid Things

by waketosleep



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Christmas, First Time, Holidays, M/M, Meeting the Parents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-04
Updated: 2011-01-04
Packaged: 2017-10-14 09:55:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/148023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waketosleep/pseuds/waketosleep
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Danny decides to show Steve the true meaning of Christmas, and does it by dragging him to New Jersey.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lonely People Do Stupid Things

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by things in episode 9, so there are a couple of spoilers for that and in general for the first twelve episodes.
> 
> I spent all of December writing this and Yuletide, and still wrote half this fic after Christmas because I've been so busy (and 5k last night). It's still Advent right now, so I declare it relevant. Haters can read it next Christmas, if they want. Thanks to Sutlers and Leupagus for a lightning joint beta, as well as cheerleading me through this monstrosity that kept getting longer.

Steve looked up when Danny dropped a piece of paper on the desk in front of him.

"What's this?" he asked, snatching it up and squinting at it.

"My flights," said Danny, shoving his hands in his pockets. "I'm taking some of my vacation time at Christmas. Go see my mom, get fed." He grinned.

"Oh." Steve carefully set the paper on the side of the desk as though it might catch fire in his hands, or bite him.

"So you gotta file my vacation time for me," Danny said, gesturing at Steve. "Please don't forget."

"Yeah," said Steve. "I got it." He turned his attention sternly back to his computer, pretending it didn't have Mah Jong on the screen and hoping Danny would get the picture and leave.

Danny stood there a moment longer; Steve didn't meet his eyes so finally he said, "Okay then," and left the office.

***

Danny and Chin were standing around the table-computer when Steve got into work the next morning. Chin was leaning on the edge of the table, his head tilted as he listened to Danny going on about something. Danny was clearly excited because his gestures were broad and sweeping like an orchestra conductor's; Chin had already stolen his coffee out of fear of spillage, judging from the mug sitting on the table near them.

Danny's voice carried as Steve came closer.

"--Makes this _amazing_ spice cake, it's like, you haven't had one that compares," he said. "Maybe I'll try to bring some back."

"That sounds like a good idea, brah, but I want my own to hide from Kono," Chin said.

"Oh, hey, Steve," said Danny as Steve walked past on the way to his office.

"Morning," said Steve dutifully, changing course to go stand with them. "What are you hiding from Kono now?"

"Oh, we were just talking about Christmas. I'm getting excited for my ma's cooking, I can almost _taste_ it, you know?" Danny's face was bright.

"Cool," said Steve. He nodded at Chin. "Your aunt doing the big bake again?"

"Always," said Chin. "You're invited, if you want."

"I dunno," said Steve.

"You got other plans?" Chin asked. Then he said, " _Oh._ Is Cat visiting?" He raised an eyebrow.

Steve could feel Danny's eyes fixed on him and it was seriously unnerving. "Not sure," he said. "She said something about going home to Iowa."

Chin shrugged. "Offer stays open."

"Thanks, man." Steve turned on his heel and went to his office, and barely had time to power up his computer before Danny was leaning in his doorway.

"You have no Christmas plans?" Danny asked. Well, more like demanded.

"I'm not going away," said Steve, looking anywhere except at Danny. "I don't have to plan ahead too much."

Danny stalked into the office and stood in front of Steve's desk, arms crossed. Steve had been about to sit but suddenly felt that was too vulnerable a position; he leaned against his desk a little instead and tried to stare back, unafraid.

"Christmas is in less than a month," said Danny. "You have no idea what you're doing. Your sister fucked off to Australia. You don't want to accept Chin's offer because the Kelly-Kalakaua family is a giant clusterfuck of repressed disapproval, a situation which no amount of food can make up for." Danny spoke from experience of Thanksgiving, the previous weekend, which they'd managed two hours at before making work-related excuses and going to a bar instead. "And you're being evasive about the fact you're doing nothing for Christmas because of what? Fear of sympathy?"

"Danno," Steve sighed, "it's not a big deal. I haven't done Christmas in--look, between my dad working all the time when we were kids and the fact I was off at Annapolis like, right out of high school, it's just not something I do. I don't need or want anyone's pity."

"I said sympathy."

"Whatever. Just drop it. I'll probably do some work at home. I've been meaning to refinish the patio furniture. It's fine."

Danny stared at him in silence for a long time. "I changed my mind," he said. "I _do_ pity you." He raised his voice over the start of Steve's protests. "I pity you because you have clearly not experienced the joys of a real, huge family Christmas."

"Joys?" echoed Steve. He'd seen Christmas movies. Like National Lampoon. That one had stuck with him.

"Food," said Danny, "and people, and noise, and alcohol, and hugging, and a distinct lack of familial disapproval in the air and a tree in the corner that's practically lifted off the floor with the shit crammed underneath it."

Steve had to take a deep breath in through his nose just from imagining that scene. It was probably a bad sign when PTSD could be triggered by thoughts of tinsel and reindeer sweaters.

"Book your time off," said Danny, pointing at the computer as he started to back away. "I'll go buy your ticket."

"What?" Steve asked, even though he knew.

Danny caught himself on the door frame. "You're coming to Jersey with me, and you're gonna like it."

Steve sank into his chair as Danny left. Chin shot him a concerned look through the window.

***

They left Honolulu on December 22nd; Kono drove them to the airport that evening after work and somehow managed to only lightly mock Steve's predicament while expressing her regret that they wouldn't be around to bail her out of her family obligations. Steve waved off her horrible attitude as they hauled their bags out of the back of the truck and then Danny led the way into the concourse.

"Oh my god," Steve said faintly, looking around at the chaos.

"You should see it in Arrivals," said a janitor passing by. Steve winced. A destination airport three days before Christmas was no place to be.

They had pre-printed boarding passes; Danny led Steve up to the baggage check counters and smiled widely at the girl they met when they got through the line.

"Aloha," she said, taking the boarding passes to scan. "You gentlemen are going to Newark?"

"Jersey City," Danny said. "Unfortunately, we gotta go through Newark to get there." He chuckled and the girl smiled back. Steve rolled his eyes.

"What takes you all that way?" she asked as they hauled the bags up onto the scale.

"Vacation," said Danny.

"God _damn_ it," said Steve, the penny finally dropping.

Danny's grin turned wide and shit-eating as the girl blinked at Steve. "Don't mind him," he said. "He's local."

"I hate you," said Steve as they made their way to security, "so much."

"No, you don't," said Danny confidently. "Hey," he said, turning serious, "now's the time to tell me if you brought any of your comfort weapons with you, before you get yanked aside at security. You packed them all, right?"

"Shut up," said Steve, staring straight ahead. "And if I had brought weapons, they'd never find them anyway."

"God, that's scary."

Steve smirked.

***

It was five hours to LAX, with a two-hour layover in that early-morning horror show of an airport, and then another five to Newark, and Steve spent the whole time wishing for death.

First, because Danny was not a fan of flying and thought Steve should share his Ambien, and while the thought of tranquilizing Danny did appeal on some level, no. Second, because Danny told everyone who dared converse with him that they were going on _vacation_ , to _New Jersey_ , and oh, they were coming from _Honolulu_. And then until the Ambien kicked in, Steve had to laugh along with Danny and his audience as though he didn't want to kill everyone in reach with his bare hands.

When they got on the flight out of L.A., Steve flirted with the stewardess until she brought him two tiny bottles of vodka, which he used to wash down his pill while Danny watched in disapproval.

"Did you do this in the military?" asked Danny. "Fly into combat zones high on Ambien with a Stoli chaser?"

"Are you kidding?" said Steve lazily, squirming to find a way to be comfortable in his tiny-ass seat with zero legroom. "I was a SEAL. I didn't fly anywhere, I swam."

He drifted off in a nice, warm haze as Danny sputtered.

***

Steve was roused from a confusing dream by Danny, who was jabbing him in the bicep.

"Wake up, wake up, we're here, wake up."

Steve blinked and squinted out the window; they were just touching down and it was official, he was in _New Jersey_. And Danny was excited about it.

"Everyone else on this plane wishes they were going the other way," he said muzzily.

"Yes, okay, just get it all out of your system before we get to my parents'," said Danny.

Steve grinned and stretched in his seat as much as he could, enjoying when his spine popped a couple of times. Danny made a face, which he enjoyed even more.

They taxied up to the gate and it was another fifteen minutes before they could escape from the plane. The bags got through okay, and then Steve looked around at the zoo of people and said, "Where are they meeting us?"

"Nah, I booked a car," said Danny, and started walking like he knew exactly where he was going, which Steve realized he hadn't seen much of before. They stopped at a car rental counter and Steve people-watched while Danny filled out the paperwork.

"Okay," said Danny, jarring Steve out of a reverie. He blinked at a twenty-something couple making out enthusiastically near a luggage carousel and followed Danny to the parking garage. When Danny hit the unlock button on the keys and the headlights of their car flashed, Steve stopped dead.

"A _Taurus_?" he asked.

"It was what they had, princess. Shut up and load your shit up, we got traffic to fight."

Steve glanced at his watch. "It's three in the afternoon."

"It's _Newark._ " Danny disappeared into the driver's side, having already tossed his suitcase in the trunk. Steve frowned and slammed the trunk on their luggage, throwing himself into the passenger seat.

Newark outside the airport seemed to Steve a savage twist of roads, boxed in by bricks and graffiti and slowly rusting steel, all mounded with snow; it reminded him of Tokyo, but given over to anarchy. There was a GPS built into the dashboard which Danny turned off, expertly navigating his way through a tangle of ramps with an impossibly calm face that reminded Steve that Danny had apparently played chicken with an airplane in the Camaro.

Steve covertly double-checked his seatbelt and resisted the impulse to wrap the shoulder strap around his arm. The car had airbags, anyway.

"So I can't remember if I explicitly told you," said Danny casually as he cut across two lanes of traffic to swing onto an exit ramp; amazingly, no one honked or pulled a gun on them or hit them, which Steve wouldn't have believed if he'd heard the story. "But I have two brothers and two sisters."

"Okay," said Steve.

"Three of 'em are married, with kids, and probably they'll all be there tomorrow and for Christmas," Danny continued, merging onto a huge freeway lined with menacing trees and then slaloming through traffic.

Steve absorbed this information, and combined with the way Danny was driving, he thought he might have a heart attack.

Danny glanced over at him. "You okay?"

"Watch the fucking road!" Steve gasped.

Danny laughed, the asshole. "It's fine."

"Where are we?"

"The Turnpike," said Danny, glancing briefly in his side mirror before blasting into the left lane.

"God," said Steve, "you are never allowed to bitch when we're in a high-speed chase again."

"Fuck you, yes I am," said Danny. "That shit is scary."

"How?" Steve demanded. "How is that scarier than this?"

"You don't know how to drive," said Danny in a matter-of-fact tone.

***

Danny's parents lived in a two-story house in a quiet, older neighbourhood. The front door was white and had a wreath hung on it; Steve looked up as Danny knocked and saw a string of Christmas lights lining the snow-clogged gutters. He wrapped his arms around himself a little tighter and tried not to shiver.

"Like I told you before we left, a leather jacket is not winter wear, especially for a delicate tropical flower such as yourself," said Danny in his stupid wool coat, right before they heard a lock turn and the door swung open.

Danny's face instantly brightened. Steve stared dumbly; he looked about five years younger. "Hey, Dad," Danny said to the guy who stood in the doorway. He stepped over the threshold, leaving his suitcase on the front steps, and they shared a manly, back-slapping hug. Danny's dad was about Danny's size, his hair grey and thinner on the top; he was wearing a blue polo shirt and jeans, a level of casual wear which Steve had not been expecting. Steve hung back awkwardly as they broke up their hug.

"Good to see you, son. Your mother's in the kitchen," Danny's dad said, stepping back and holding the door open while Danny snatched up his suitcase. Steve followed him inside quietly and shuffled out of the way of the door as it closed.

"Dad, this is my partner from work, Steve McGarrett," said Danny, grabbing Steve's suitcase from him and setting them both down closer to the staircase. Danny immediately started peeling off his jacket and toeing off his snow-caked shoes, not really paying attention to anything as Steve warily sized up Danny's dad and got a thoughtful look in return.

"Mr. Williams," said Steve, sticking out his hand. "Nice to meet you."

"Call me Tom," he answered, shaking it brusquely; his grip was strong. "Thanks for helping to keep my son alive."

"It's like you don't listen to the things I tell you when you call," said Danny, already walking to the kitchen.

Tom chuckled and followed Danny; Steve hung up his jacket on the coat rack with Danny's and left his shoes by the door. The kitchen smelled lovely even from the hallway, like vanilla and cinnamon. Danny was hugging a lady just a little shorter than he was, her blonde hair put up messily and gone ashy with grey.

"I'm so glad you made it home, kid," she said, smiling over his shoulder.

"Me too," said Danny.

They broke apart and she held him at arm's length. "You're so tanned!" she said.

Steve looked at Danny critically. He was actually a little more tan than he'd started out, although he was still pasty by island standards.

"It looks good on you," she continued. "Healthy."

"Thanks, Ma," said Danny, and then he turned to look at Steve. "Ma, this is Steve McGarrett."

She swooped over immediately and shook his hand with both of hers. "Call me Shirley. I'm so glad you came out," she said. "It'll be a great Christmas."

"Thanks," said Steve as she released his hand. "I'm looking forward to it." He thought he even managed not to make it sound like he was really saying, 'I'm in fear for my life right now.'

Tom and Danny took seats around the kitchen table as Shirley put a tray of cookies into the oven. "Now," she said, turning around and clapping her hands. "Catching up." She went to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of red wine, plunking it on the table and grabbing a glass to follow. "I don't know what you're all having," she said, digging through a drawer and finding a corkscrew.

Tom snorted and got up to grab three beers out of the fridge as Shirley poured herself a glass of wine. Danny unscrewed the top from his beer bottle and pitched it at Steve's face; Steve caught it in front of his cheek and set it down deliberately on the table, raising an eyebrow at Danny who just smirked back.

"So," said Shirley, "Mark and Stacey and their kids are staying here already; they're just out Christmas shopping today, down at Newport Centre."

"Lunatics," Tom muttered into his beer.

"Anyway, I've got you and Steve in Paul and Mark's old room. It's still got the two twins in it. Hope that's okay."

Danny shrugged, apparently on Steve's behalf. Steve drank his beer silently.

"The other kids will be out tomorrow afternoon. I think Paul was making noises about a game of shinny on the pond down the road." She frowned. "If you boys can all keep from killing each other and getting frostbite, I think Maria and Katie and Stacey are going to help me with some cooking."

"Violence is half the fun of shinny, Ma."

"Damn kids. Tom, why did we have so many?"

"Because we were both raised Catholic," said Tom, raising an eyebrow at Steve which Steve had no idea how to respond to.

Danny nearly choked on his beer. "Jesus, Dad."

"Watch your mouth, Danny," Shirley said.

"So how's Hawaii, Dan?" Tom asked.

Danny scratched at the label of his beer bottle with a nail. "Sandy. Full of tanned, pretty people who like the ocean and the sun too much. Raining a lot, lately."

"Work's good?"

"Hectic."

"We caught those smugglers last week," Steve piped up.

"I thought we were never going to speak of that case again," Danny snapped.

Steve grinned; he'd had a good time.

"Drug smugglers?" Shirley asked.

"Yeah."

"Lowlifes. Was it gang-related?"

"We think Triad," said Danny. "Kono and Chin--the other half of our team--are following up on a lead while we're gone."

Shirley nodded and took a sip of wine. "I hear they're even worse than the Mob."

Steve tilted his head at her; he couldn't help it.

"My mom's a retired cop," said Danny.

"Seriously?" Steve blurted, staring at her. She looked kind of like a very tired Martha Stewart, with longer hair.

"Twenty-five years with Newark PD," she said. "I was Detective Second Grade when I took retirement."

"She and her partner still hold the solve rate record in the department," said Danny with a grin.

"I kind of hoped you and Decker were gonna unseat us, but, well." Shirley took another sip of wine.

Danny grimaced; Steve watched him out of the corner of his eye while pretending to pay attention to scratching the label off of his bottle.

"Not like I wanted to leave," said Danny. "Rachel didn't leave me with much in the way of options."

But Shirley just waved a hand. "Of course not, but that's not what I was saying. If that was what it took to get you the hell out of New Jersey then--and I can't believe I'm saying this--I'm grateful to Rachel."

"Ma!" Danny burst out, eyes wide. Steve sucked his lower lip into his mouth to hide a really inappropriate smirk as Danny turned to his dad. "Is that her first bottle of wine today?" he hissed.

As Tom pretended to be deaf, Shirley glared at Danny. "Daniel, what do you want me to say? You were divorced, living in your partner's spare bedroom because you were too depressed to get off your ass and find a damn apartment. Rachel got all your friends in the divorce except for the ones who were cops. And what were you gonna have to look forward to in your life except working out the rest of your years till you either pensioned out or got killed in the line? Especially when your face looked like you didn't care which it was gonna end up being!" Her voice was steadily rising in a way that reminded Steve uncannily of Danny; he couldn't look away.

"And now," she said, "you live on a tropical island where it's sunny all the time, you have friends again, you work for the state government and you look happier now than you have in the last five years! Hate to break it to you, kiddo, but you traded up." She picked up her wine again as Danny stared at her.

Steve might have tried his best to enjoy the ensuing silence, if he'd known it would be one of the last ones he'd experience for days.

As it was, everyone stared at each other for several seconds and Tom drank his beer placidly, and then the front door burst open and a wave of noise crashed over them as Danny's youngest brother (Mark), his wife (Stacey), and their two young kids came stomping inside, shopping bags everywhere and the six-year-old chasing the four-year-old in screaming, giggly circles (Dawn and Anna, but Steve couldn't figure out which was which because they never stood still long enough to tell which one was being identified). Mark dropped his bright red and white bags and tackled Danny around the middle in a really violent hug; Danny yelled and messed up Mark's hair. Then Stacey squealed and threw herself at Danny, arms around his neck, and he laughed as he laid a hand lightly between her shoulder blades. The kids took a leg each, yelling about how Uncle Danny was home and did he bring stuff from Hawaii, and Steve turned his face away and took a long pull from his beer just to have a chance to regroup.

He glanced up and Tom was giving him some kind of knowing look across the table; Steve looked away again as Shirley got up to take the cookies out of the oven. Apparently the timer was pinging, somewhere under all the racket.

***

Dinner had been loud and delicious. Steve dragged himself up the stairs to the room they were staying in that night, feeling like his knees would buckle under the weight of the spaghetti, cookies and beer he'd consumed. "I'm not going to make it," he groaned at Danny, who was behind him.

"No one put a gun to your head and make you take seconds," Danny pointed out unhelpfully.

"It seemed polite," Steve tried, but really, the spaghetti had been amazing and even the little voice in his head that always told him to swim another mile and do another rep hadn't been able to put up a fight.

Danny's snort indicated how much he bought that story. Steve decided to quit while he was still--well, not ahead, but maybe not too far behind--and pushed open the door to their room, feeling the wall for the light switch in the dark. Danny's arm snaked past him and flipped the lights on, illuminating the twin beds pushed against opposite walls, the old white dresser with stickers of 80s Ferraris stuck to the drawers, and their suitcases sitting in front of the closet door.

"Get it in gear, Tubby, I'm tired." Danny pushed his shoulder to slip past Steve and grabbed his suitcase, tossing it onto the bed and digging out his shaving kit and some pajamas.

While Danny headed off to the bathroom to do his thing, Steve stripped down to his boxers and crawled into his own bed, melting into the mattress as he stretched out. His head was at the top of the mattress and his feet still stretched right to the bottom of it, which made him sigh before he curled onto his side and shoved a hand under the pillow. He was starting to drift off even with the lights on when Danny came back in, hitting the switch on his way by and navigating to his bed in the dark. A greyish beam from the streetlight outside came through the curtains and Steve's eyesight adjusted until he could make out Danny's outline under the covers.

"You may not be able to swim halfway across the Pacific and back like usual, but you'll get a workout in when we go play hockey tomorrow," Danny said.

"I've never played hockey," said Steve sleepily.

"Well, you'll love it. You get to race around on skates and hit people into snowbanks and smack a puck around with a stick. Usually we wear helmets but I bet you can put up with that."

"I can skate," said Steve. "I used to rollerblade."

Danny chuckled. "Not really the same thing, McGarrett."

"No," Steve said, "it's better."

Danny didn't answer, and soon his breathing sounded slow and even. Steve shifted under his covers and closed his eyes.

***

Next morning Steve woke up to a fresh half-inch of snow on the ground outside; he peered out through the curtains at the white lump that used to be their rental car. Danny rolled over and sighed up at him.

"Why are you even awake right now?" Danny mumbled. "It's so early."

"It's 9:45," said Steve.

"It's Christmas Eve," Danny retorted. "It's also the middle of the night back home. We spent most of yesterday on a plane. You're a freak, go back to bed."

Steve noted the word 'home', probably not one Danny would use if he were more awake. "I can't," Steve said. "I'm up for the day now." He studied Danny. "You actually fit in that bed. That's one good thing about being a midget, huh?"

Danny rolled to his other side and pulled the pillow over his head. Steve decided it was a good time to go shower.

The room was empty when he came back to it; the covers on Danny's bed were a mess. Steve went downstairs to find Danny sitting at the kitchen table in his pajamas, his hair sticking up. He was shoveling down a bowl of oatmeal.

"Morning, Steve," said Shirley, plunking a bowl down at the table for him. "Sleep well?"

"Yeah," said Steve, dragging out the chair at Danny's side and reaching for the honey in the middle of the table. "Thanks." He turned to Danny and added, "Nice hair."

Danny shrugged his eyebrows at Steve as he raised his coffee cup to his mouth.

"The Williams family as a whole is not very good at mornings," Shirley observed from the stove. As if on cue, Mark and Tom both came blearily into the kitchen and went straight for the coffee maker. It was a really nice coffee maker, Steve noticed.

"God," he said out loud before he could stop himself. "Danny, how can the world handle there being more than one of you?"

Danny burst out laughing and his parents and brother joined in.

***

Danny went to shower after breakfast and came back downstairs in jeans and a sweater. When Steve did a double-take, Danny just raised an eyebrow and said, "It's Christmas. And we're going to play hockey all afternoon. Give me a break, McGarrett."

Mark's kids had an Xbox, or maybe it was that Mark had an Xbox with the excuse that he had kids, because he had one of the Halo games for it; at any rate, Danny, Steve, Mark and Tom all sat around the living room playing Halo for the rest of the morning while Stacey and Shirley had coffee and the girls chased each other around some more. The front door opened shortly after noon and ten people fell through it, bringing in cold air and a lot of wrapped presents that were stuffed under the already jacked-up Christmas tree in the corner.

A wave of voices crested over Steve as Williamses flooded the living room; he realized he had a death grip on his Xbox controller and set it down carefully on the coffee table.

Danny's face was all happiness as he said, "This is Paul, who by the way is a little bastard, and that's my sister Katie and Wayne and their kids Haley and Hunter, and that's my other sister Maria and Dave the Friendly Giant and their oversized child-monsters Thomas, Brendan and Shawn." He pointed as he talked and people waved, and Steve tried to keep up but Christ, how many loud, short people with light hair and room-filling personalities could there be at once? He was stuck in the middle of a space-time event and a singularity was going to form around the Christmas tree any second.

"Everybody, that's Steve McGarrett, I work with him," said Danny, gesturing at him, and Steve got off of the couch to have his hand shaken and his cheeks kissed by like half the population of the state of New Jersey.

"So I hear we're gonna play some hockey," declared Dave, who at least was easy to pick out of the crowd because (except for his teenage sons) he was almost a head taller than everyone else in the room. A general cheer went up and as the girls got out of the way, the guys all ran back outside to grab skates and sticks from their cars.

"Wear some helmets at least, and I don't want to see any blood!" Shirley hollered at their backs.

"Come on," said Danny, laying a hand on Steve's shoulder to urge him out of the room. "We'll get you some gear. Katie, is it cold out?" he asked his sister on the way past.

She shrugged. "Like fifteen."

Steve winced but Danny just said, "Cool," and pushed him out of the room. Shirley followed, telling them that all the hockey stuff was in the basement.

"What size are your feet, like a fifty-nine?" Danny asked as they went downstairs.

Steve gave him the finger. "Twelve, thanks," he said.

"Uh huh. Paul's got giant feet and played hockey in college, we've probably got an old pair of his skates around here somewhere."

Danny dove into a pile of sports equipment in the corner of his parents' basement and came out with two sticks, his own skates and some skates that fit Steve well enough for an afternoon, plus a couple of black helmets that might have seen a battlefield, from the scuffs and dents in them.

"They'll keep what's left of your brain inside your head, anyway," said Danny, tossing one at Steve's face. "Let's go."

Danny threw on his coat, a scarf and some mittens and seemed to be ready. Steve looked out the frosty window next to the front door and wondered why he hadn't brought thermal underwear with him. Shirley walked by, took a look at his face, and sighed before she yanked open the door of the hall closet to root around inside.

"Here you go," she said, tossing a bright orange fleece neckwarmer and some mittens with flaps at him.

Steve looked down at himself, at the skates slung over his shoulder, the hockey helmet in one hand and the mittens and scarf in the other.

"Get your jacket. And a sweater," said Danny. "You won't get hypothermia, it's fine."

"That's what you think," hissed Steve, before dropping all of his stuff on the floor and jogging upstairs to grab a hoodie out of his suitcase.

The skating rink was at the end of the street, in a little park with a snow-covered slide and swingset; skeletal trees draped with white crowded over the rink, which was a wooden frame that had just been flooded with water until it froze. Someone had pushed the snow off of a nearby bench with a hockey stick; Danny's nephew Brendan finished lacing his skates and leaped off the bench and onto the ice as they approached. Everyone else was already skating, doing lazy laps or knocking a puck around. Steve watched as Danny dropped onto the bench and quickly toed his shoes off, stuffing his feet into his skates and lacing them up like he did it every day.

"Come on, McGarrett, the ice is calling," Danny said, craning his head up at Steve. His face was a little red, from cold or from being bent forward over his knees, Steve wasn't sure.

Steve sat down and awkwardly got into his skates, yanking on the laces.

"Do them up as tight as you can stand," said Danny, who was ready to go but stayed on the bench waiting for him.

They squeezed Steve's ankles when he was done and he stood up carefully, wobbling until he found his balance on top of the blades. Danny shoved a stick at him and ran through the snow to jump onto the ice, his momentum carrying him as he turned smoothly to face Steve. "They work better on ice than standing in a snowbank," he called, and then he had to dodge out of the way as Mark came charging at him. Danny's breath puffed out in clouds as he laughed. He looked ridiculous with that helmet on over his hair.

Steve held his arms out for balance as he made his way over to the rink; he stood on the wooden edge and set one skate down on the ice gingerly. His foot shot forward while his weight stayed on his back foot, and he swore, flailing a little before he pushed off and glided forward, stick held out in front of him with both hands. The edges of his helmet blocked his peripheral vision and his ears burned with the cold.

"That's it," said Danny, shoving at Mark's ribs with the shaft of his hockey stick to get rid of him and then skating over to Steve. "Keep putting your weight on your forward foot."

Steve got some speed going and was gliding to the other side of the rink at a good clip when he realized that hockey skates didn't have brakes and he didn't know how to stop. He tried to turn, shifting his weight back and feeling the sides of his blades catch on the ice, and then he tipped too far and was lying on the ice, on his side, and he was still moving forward. He took a deep breath and let his stick go across the ice as he slid right off the rink and toppled into the snow.

"Fuck," he said to the trees overhead. His hip was aching and he heard applause behind him. He turned himself around and saw most of Danny's family watching him and clapping enthusiastically. Dave let out a piercing whistle as Danny skated over, doubled over with laughter.

"You okay?" he asked as he reached out a hand to Steve. Steve took it and let Danny pull him up and shakily back onto the ice.

"I don't know how to stop," said Steve.

"Well, you don't do it like that."

"Steve's on your team," said Shawn as he skated past them. Steve glared; the kid was like, twelve, and skated like he'd been wearing them since birth. Steve was going to figure out how to stop, and then he was going to knock that little shit into the biggest snowbank he could find.

The game started, with snowboots on either end of the rink marking the goals (there were no goaltenders). Steve learned how to skate fast because otherwise he was going to get annihilated by every male member of Danny's family and his niece Haley, who they called The Enforcer. It was cold as hell; Danny had lied about the exercise warming him up, all the gasping for air made Steve's lungs freeze until he coughed, and spending half his time falling or being cross-checked onto the ice was making his ass go numb. But Steve scored two goals, one of them on Haley, and as he tried to stay upright under the force of all the backslaps while Danny grinned across the rink at him, he decided hockey wasn't so bad, for a winter sport.

Eventually the game broke up and they all glided off the ice to take their skates off. Steve looked up at the sky; it was starting to get dark. As he picked his way through the trampled snow to grab his (cold, very cold) shoes, he suddenly realized he was starving; they'd been out there for the entire afternoon.

They walked back to the house alongside Haley and Paul, Steve frowning at the way his shoes felt on his feet after wearing skates for almost five hours. "How'd you like it?" Danny asked over Haley's head.

"My entire face is numb." He had trouble articulating because his lips felt like they belonged on someone else's face. Danny smirked and ruffled Haley's hair, which made her try to punch him in the kidney.

"His knee's his weak point," Steve called as Danny dodged Haley's fists and let her chase him up the street.

"Traitor!" Danny yelled over his shoulder. He was limping visibly as he ran.

"You fit in well," said Paul, who was watching Danny and Haley with his hands shoved in the pockets of his ski jacket.

Steve felt unaccountably pleased about that.

***

They walked inside the house to the overwhelming smell of food; Steve's stomach made anguished noises as they set to stomping off snow and peeling off layers. The ambient noise level hit the ceiling again and assaulted Steve's ears until they all sat down to dinner, which was more spaghetti.

"I am doing all of my cooking for tomorrow," said Shirley. "Today gets leftovers." She said this without prompting as she brought over the pot of reheated spaghetti sauce to the table. Steve wasn't about to complain at the thought of more spaghetti anyway.

After dinner, all of the kids were allowed to open one present and then all of Danny's local siblings went home. While Mark and Stacey went to tuck their daughters in, everyone else sat around the living room with glasses of scotch, admiring the lights of the Christmas tree. After a while, Shirley roused from her spot on the other side of Danny on the couch and went to the hall closet, hauling out a cardboard box full of presents from Santa; Tom helped her place them in front of the tree.

"No stockings?" Steve asked idly as he watched the process. Mark was coming back down the stairs.

"Nope," said Shirley, straightening up and grabbing her scotch again as Tom disposed of the big box. "They get enough candy as it is."

Steve smirked; Danny turned and grinned at him.

"Hey," said Tom as Shirley turned to take the plate of cookies for Santa from the fireplace mantle. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Accepting Santa's payment," she said as Stacey finally came downstairs and rejoined them.

"Why do _you_ get them? Who went to Toys R Us on Tuesday because you forgot to get the stuff for Maria's boys?"

"Shut up," Shirley said, holding up a cookie. "I wrapped them all." She took a big bite out of it and chewed a few times before giving Tom a peck on the lips. "Thank you, dear. You make a great Mrs. Claus. Tell you what, you can have the milk," she said, nodding her head toward the glass still sitting on the mantle as she made her way back to the couch with the cookie plate.

Tom picked up the glass of milk, gave it a sad look, and offered it to Stacey, who giggled as she took it.

"Next year, we tell the kids that Santa needs a real drink," he said as he settled back into his armchair.

"Yes, dear," said Shirley, while everyone else laughed.

As the laughter died down, she swirled her drink and sighed. Steve looked at her; she was staring at the tree.

"It's weird, not having Gracie here for Christmas," she said finally.

Danny tensed visibly. "I wanted to bring her out, Ma, but then Rachel's mom decided to go out to Hawaii for Christmas and there wasn't much I could do about it. Rach and I were talking about one of us bringing her home for a while this summer."

"That'd be nice," she agreed. "And she and I were emailing and she promised to call tomorrow after she opens her gifts. I just.... It's something I've got to get used to, I guess. Not having the whole family around for Christmas anymore. It was strange not having you here last year, either."

"Yeah," said Danny into his drink.

Steve looked at Danny, not liking the slump of his shoulders or the way he stared into his glass, holding himself still with the force of his sadness. He cast around for something to do to make it stop and finally just gave Danny a nudge with his elbow. Danny blinked and looked up at him; Steve raised an eyebrow and sipped his drink. Danny rolled his eyes, knocked back the rest of his drink and stood up. "Well, I'm going to bed. Jet lag's still playing hell with me."

"I think I'm ready to pack it in too," said Steve.

"Goodnight, boys. Merry Christmas," said Shirley. They made their way through the room to a chorus of 'goodnight's and left their empty scotch glasses on the kitchen counter before going upstairs to bed. As Danny went ahead into their room, Steve caught a glimpse of movement in the dark down the hall and looked up at Anna (or was it Dawn?) peeking around the door of the room they were sleeping in. Steve had a flashback to being eight (Mary had been almost six) and creeping downstairs at one in the morning to try and catch Santa; they'd missed him, because the presents had already been out, stockings stuffed, and parents gone to bed. Steve raised a finger to his lips at the little girl and she smiled brightly before ducking back into her room and shutting the door.

***

Steve woke from a deep sleep on Christmas morning to a high-pitched scream and flailed in the cocoon of his covers for a few seconds; then a second scream that sounded like "Santa came!" echoed up the stairs and he stopped fighting the blankets, remembering where he was.

Danny groaned and rolled over. "Even louder than Grace," he said into his pillow.

Steve flopped back in his tangle of blankets, staring up at the ceiling, grey with predawn light. It was six in the damn morning. "Should we get up?"

The incomprehensible noise Danny made had a tone that implied he was going back to sleep. Steve grinned up at the ceiling.

And then five minutes later, there was a knock on the door. "I can't get her back to bed," said Shirley through the door. "Everyone else will be here soon, anyway. Coffee's on."

"I kind of love your mom," said Steve, thinking fondly about coffee that he didn't have to make. He thought he'd seen muffins in the fridge the day before, too.

"My mom is way too awesome for you," said Danny as he dragged himself into a sitting position. His hair was pointing in every conceivable direction and he rubbed at his eyes with the heels of his hands.

"How are you two genetically related, anyway?"

Danny's response was to give him the finger while his other hand continued to rub tiredly over his face. Steve decided that was a good cue to go jump in the shower, and he got up to grab some clothes.

Tom was poking at bacon in a pan when Steve got downstairs; Shirley handed him a cup of coffee and he wandered into the living room to find Mark and Stacey watching their kids play with the toys they'd opened the night before. Soon the others showed up, Danny had dragged himself down the stairs and to a cup of coffee, and they all gathered in the living room to sit on couches and armchairs and kitchen chairs and the carpet. Steve sat back on the couch with Danny and Paul and the three of them watched all the mini family units open their presents while they ate bacon and toast. Danny and Paul had the occasional box tossed at them; Steve took long sips of coffee to keep from saying anything every time Danny opened a tie (there were three). Danny saw and smirked every single time, making a point of showing them all to Steve.

Steve was just starting to check out mentally (he was pretty tired) when Tom picked up a package from under the tree and read the tag out loud: "To Steve. From Santa." And then he tossed it at Steve, who caught it one-handed while holding his coffee over Danny's lap.

"Hey!" said Danny, pushing Steve's coffee cup out of his space.

"It was just in case I spilled it, Danno," said Steve, shoving the cup into his hands so he could open his gift. Inside was a scarf, hat and gloves, all dark grey.

"Wow," he said, examining them as Danny started to laugh.

"I guess you'll be prepared next time you come out this way," said Shirley absently. Steve looked at her and saw a twinkle in her eye.

He ducked his head to hide a smile he couldn't suppress. "Thanks," he managed.

"Steve," said Anna or Dawn, "it was _Santa_ who brought that, not Gramma!"

"Oh," said Steve as Danny started shaking with silent laughter. "Uh. If you see Santa, tell him I said thanks, Shirley."

"I'll do that."

***

The wrapping paper debris was cleared away, the toys were being put through their paces, whiskey had made its sneaky way into Steve's coffee. He presented Shirley and Tom with a bottle of wine and some whole-bean Kona which Shirley declared her sole territory to be violated upon pain of death. Grace called in the afternoon and after letting her talk to her grandparents for a few minutes, Danny stole the phone and shut himself in the bedroom for half an hour. Dinner was a sprawling and loud affair and the first Steve had ever been to with a kids' table (Danny, who looked much happier after talking to Grace, kept threatening to send him there). After dinner, Steve played poker with all of Danny's siblings while digesting his food and being interrogated on his life to date, while Danny just sat there in silence for the first time in his asshole life instead of coming to Steve's defense. Steve decided by the time his chips were half-gone that if Danny was in fact the least Williams-y of all the Williams family, then there was no hope for this world.

"You're lucky, Steve, we decided to go easy on you," said Katie between sips of wine. "Usually when we get together, by this late in the evening we're playing strip poker and the second buy-in involves doing something really embarrassing while someone takes pictures."

Steve was sure she was just yanking his chain, but then Paul shot a glance at Mark and burst out laughing. Mark was blushing and giving him the finger while Danny and Maria both stared at their cards with their lips twitching. Steve edged his chair back slightly, the better to keep them all in his sights.

Finally Maria had won the poker game, all the kids had just about fallen asleep where they sat, and the Willams siblings' significant others were starting to give the front door and the clock meaningful looks. After everyone had cleared out, Steve eyed the staircase and decided he might make it before his turkey coma took him.

"I am going to be fat by the time we get home," he realized as he climbed the stairs.

Danny snorted. "You'll have to swim for a week straight to get your girlish figure back. Or, you know, eat less."

Steve ignored him.

"Hey," said Danny when they walked into their room, interrupting Steve's beeline for his bed. "I got you something."

Steve stopped dead and blinked. "You did?" He turned around and Danny was holding out a gift bag with a picture of a penguin on it.

"Sure. Traditionally I just buy my partner a bottle of scotch or something, but I was pretty sure it wouldn't travel well, so here."

Steve took the bag, popped the tape holding it shut with his nail and peered inside, pulling out the contents. Danny had gotten him a portable first-aid kit in a little metal case with a red cross on it, which was just hilarious. And a gift certificate.

Steve looked at it. "This is my favourite shooting range," he said in surprise.

"I know," said Danny, rolling his eyes. "They have assault rifles there. You freak." He grinned. "Anyway, that's good for an afternoon."

Steve blinked at the gift certificate and then at Danny, unsure of what to say. "I... thank you, Danno."

Danny grinned; Steve watched how it reached all the way to his eyes. "Merry Christmas."

Steve impulsively leaned forward and hugged Danny with his free arm, giving him a clap on the back before releasing him. The smell of Danny's aftershave wafted in his wake and Steve breathed it in, realizing it was a familiar smell that he'd never really paid attention to before.

"Well," said Danny after a moment, "I'm fucking beat."

"I might pass out where I stand," admitted Steve. "Tryptophan is powerful stuff."

"Of _course_ you know the name of the thing in turkey that makes you sleepy, you giant nerd," said Danny. "Has the government weaponized it yet?"

"That's classified," said Steve sweetly, although the idea of tryptophan as a bioweapon was ridiculous.

Danny rolled his eyes and went to brush his teeth. Steve got into bed with a smile on his face. He was going to have to get something for Danny when they got home. Maybe the scotch thing; Danny liked scotch. It definitely wasn't going to be a fucking tie.

***

Steve woke up at noon on December 26th and immediately felt like ass. He hadn't slept that late in a while. Maybe not since the last time he was looking for Hesse, when he was going to bed with the sunrise for about a week.

He sat up and rubbed his eyes; Danny's bed was empty. Just as he was contemplating how Danny could possibly have woken up before him and managed to move around and leave the room without even waking him up, the door opened and Danny came back in, showered, shaved and dressed.

"Sleeping Beauty awakes," he declared. "I was just coming to toss you out of bed."

"I'd like to see you try." Steve stretched and cracked his neck, smirking when Danny made a face at the sound.

"So," said Danny. "There's coffee downstairs. My brother's family is leaving today. I don't know what you want to do this afternoon, or the next couple days."

Steve took a second to turn over in his head the fact that they were discussing engaging in _New Jersey tourism_. "Uh," he managed.

Danny sat on the other bed, his elbows braced on his knees. He was wearing a button-down shirt with no tie; the top button was undone, exposing the hollow of his throat. Steve didn't see that very often; he let his eyes linger on the spot for a second.

"Well," said Danny, yanking Steve's attention back to his face as he held out a hand to tick off points on his fingers, "there's, uh, Liberty State Park and the Statue of Liberty, there's Atlantic City, the Jersey Shore--no Snooki jokes, I'll fucking slap you--um, that bakery in Hoboken where they film Cake Boss, and there's also a Frank Sinatra tour or two in Hoboken." Danny squinted up at the ceiling in thought. "I guess we could go into the city, too, if you wanted."

"Huh," said Steve, scratching at his jaw. Maybe something in that list would seem more appealing after a shower and breakfast. Or lunch, or whatever.

"That's not all there is to do here," said Danny. "But it's winter."

"I guess," said Steve. "Let me think about it." He got out of bed and grabbed up some clothes from his suitcase.

***

Danny showed Steve where the cereal was when he made it downstairs; Steve ate while Mark and Stacey packed and brought down their suitcases. They finished and pulled their coats on as Steve was putting his bowl in the dishwasher, and he joined the family in the hallway to share goodbyes. He got hugs from Mark, Dawn and Anna and Stacey gave him a kiss on the cheek, too. Steve just hugged back automatically, not sure what to think about the displays of affection from people he'd met a few days ago.

"We'll see you again, right Steve?" Mark asked as he picked up the laptop bag he'd shoved his Xbox into.

Steve just stood there for a second, his mind racing. "Uh," he said, "you bet!" He hoped he looked halfway sincere.

"Maybe we'll have to go visit Danny in Hawaii," said Stacey.

"That's the best idea you've ever had," they heard Mark reply as his little family spilled out the front door and down the steps.

"Well," said Shirley, after they'd watched Mark and Stacey herd their kids into their minivan to go back to--Ohio? Steve thought it was Ohio. "What are you two doing for the rest of the day?"

"That's up to Steve," said Danny, looking up at him in some kind of expectant exasperation. "I don't think he's sold on Jersey's tourist delights."

"You two should go to the Naval Museum while you're here," said Shirley over her shoulder as she went back to the living room.

"Oh man," said Danny. "I remember that place. We went there on a field trip for my eighth grade History class."

"Naval Museum?" Steve asked, his curiosity piqued.

"Yeah," said Danny. "I mean, obviously you're all about the Army--"

"Navy," Steve shot back.

"--Marines," finished Danny with an infuriating grin. "But are you into the museum part of it?"

"They have a decommissioned sub," Shirley called from the living room. She apparently had ears like a bat.

Well, that decided it. "Let's go there," said Steve, feeling kind of excited.

Danny raised an eyebrow. "Okay. It's a half-hour drive or something like that, though." He glanced past Steve at the wall clock in the kitchen. "Wanna do that tomorrow?"

"Sure."

"Okay. And today? Hoboken and the Statue of Liberty are both close."

Steve was going to be forced to make a decision. This was what he hated about vacations. "I've never seen the Statue of Liberty up close," he admitted.

"What?" Danny snapped. "Fine, we're going. Get your woolies."

Steve put on a sweater and his jacket and then grabbed his brand-new winter gear, too. Danny was outside already, knocking snow off their rental car with his hand to open the trunk. Steve went outside and felt thankful for the shoveled sidewalk as he watched Danny start cleaning off the car with a snow brush.

"I bet we could find another one for you to help," said Danny as Steve stood back, hands in pockets, and watched him push two inches of snow off of the roof of the car.

"I think you've got it under control," said Steve through his scarf. "I'll just supervise."

Danny took the snow brush in both hands and shoved a bunch of snow off the car at Steve; Steve jumped out of the way, laughing. His breath puffed out around his scarf and the steam almost obscured the fact that Danny was chuckling, too.

***

Liberty State Park was flat and white and cold. Steve hunched his shoulders against the wind off the water as they walked along a plowed, wet pathway to the water's edge. They stopped next to a bank of pay-binoculars to look at the statue that stood out bluish against the overcast sky.

"Wanna get closer?" Danny asked after a few minutes.

"Yeah."

Setting foot on Liberty Island was free but the ferry they had to take to get there was not, which Steve found hilarious. He daydreamed about parachuting onto the island as the ferry sped them over, the wind whipping his scarf around. He knotted it a little more snugly around his neck.

Of course, all the armed guards sniffing for terrorists might object to parachuting in to avoid the ferry charge.

Danny looked at him. "Why are you smiling?"

Steve blinked. "No reason."

Danny's eyes narrowed and Steve looked back as innocently as he could manage. "Jumping out of an airplane to get to the Statue of Liberty is a terrible idea. So is scuba-diving," said Danny.

Steve hadn't even considered diving. He sputtered. "How do you even know I was thinking about that?"

"I know you," said Danny. "The only thing you like as much as being in the water is jumping out of planes. Preferably _into_ the water."

That was a depressingly truthful thing to hear, even from his detective partner of a year and a half. "I've done way crazier jumps. Into places with people even more likely to shoot at me," he said out of spite.

"I have no doubt of that," said Danny. Steve watched him look out at the harbour for a minute before he sighed and said, "Okay, I'll bite."

"Once at jump school, my unit did a jump out of a rear door craft with a loveseat and armchair."

Danny stared at him for a second; Steve felt his grin creep back onto his face, between Danny's 'I cannot believe this is actually happening' expression and the memory of the jump. To be in his twenties again, doing dumb shit like that with his buddies. "I sat in the armchair," he added.

Danny gave him a considering look. "How much shit did you get into for that one?"

"So much. We pulled two weeks of latrine duty, and we had to clear all the furniture bits out of the field they landed in."

Danny bit his lip to hide a smile and looked away, and with that they were docking at Liberty Island. They filed off the boat with their group of fellow tourists and walked up to the base of the statue. Steve craned his neck.

"Well," he said, peering up at the lady. She was definitely imposing.

"Yup," said Danny, looking up and stuffing his hands in his pockets, his elbow bumping Steve's forearm.

***

On the 27th they went to the New Jersey Naval Museum in Hackensack (which was a stupid fucking name and Danny was getting that thrown back at him next time he had something to say about place names in Hawaii). The building had some interesting stuff that Steve described to Danny as they wandered slowly through the exhibits, their coats hanging open and shoes squeaking wetly on the dirty floor. There were some things on display that he'd even used himself. Danny had the good grace to look interested in most of it but put his fingers in his ears every time Steve tried to tell a hilarious story of something he'd done in the SEALs with whatever they were standing in front of (the SEAL delivery vehicle Danny took one look at and walked right past, probably figuring there was a story he didn't want to hear. Steve actually had five he liked to tell at bars but two of them didn't end in medics attending).

Outside the museum at the waterfront was the best part, though. The Naval Museum had a Pibber from Vietnam (his dad had spent part of his service on boats just like it, and Steve had to blink back a couple of unbidden tears as he stood on the dock and stared at her), and then of course the USS _Ling_ , which had brought Steve out here in the first place.

"Big submarine," said Danny as they wandered over to join a tour group.

"Submersible," corrected Steve automatically, his gaze tracing her lines.

"What?"

Steve looked down at Danny. "She's not a submarine, she's a submersible."

"What's the difference?" Danny didn't sound like he cared what the difference was, but Steve was happy to educate.

"Submarines are like cigar tubes and spend most of their time submerged. Submersibles are like this," he gestured at it, "not as sturdy at depth, and don't go under the surface as often."

Danny looked from Steve to the boat. "So in like, Das Boot, those were still submarines."

"Yes," sighed Steve.

"Got it," said Danny, striding forward to join the group.

Their tour guide, Bill, was a vet who'd served on the same class of boats, and although for the whole tour Steve kept remembering flashes of the _Missouri_ and Graham Wilson, he managed to enjoy poking through the boat.

"Stop making best friends with the tour guide, you're being embarrassing," muttered Danny at one point, while Steve and Bill were discussing engine yield. Steve stopped midsentence and looked over his shoulder; the other five people in their tour group were watching him and Bill curiously, probably listening in. Danny just stood with his arms crossed, staring exasperatedly at the pressure gauges on the nearest bulkhead.

"Tell you what, I have email," said Bill, pulling a business card out of his shirt pocket.

"Awesome," said Steve, taking it with delight. He'd crossed the Pacific on his share of subs and was fascinated as hell by the old ones used in WWII and earlier.

"Jesus," hissed Danny when the tour resumed and took them into the galley. "Are you two gonna make a coffee date?"

"Don't be so jealous, Danno," Steve shot back as he tucked Bill's business card in his back pocket. "He's too old for me anyway."

Danny sputtered and Steve smirked as he ducked into the galley to stand in the rear of the group.

***

Steve had toyed with the idea of going to Atlantic City during their visit, or at least he did until Danny dragged him to a mall on the 28th.

"I've seen fucking Mallrats, everyone's seen that movie. Why do we have to go to a mall? You know we have malls in Honolulu, right?" Steve asked as they walked up to the doors.

"I am from New Jersey. Honolulu does not have real malls," said Danny. "Like them or not, they're part of our cultural landscape. Like Kevin Smith movies."

Then they walked into the mall and Steve made it ten steps before he thought he might die.

"Where the hell did all these people come from?" he demanded, dodging a lady in a pink tracksuit who charged past him, talking on a Blackberry.

Danny looked around, hands on his hips. "Elizabeth," he said. "Union. Newark." He took a deep breath through his nose. "My people."

Steve crossed his arms and tried to make himself look smaller. "You want to bask in it for a while?"

"No," said Danny. "I hate malls. Let's go."

"What?" demanded Steve. "I thought there was something you needed!"

"I just wanted to scare you. Come on, we're going to Trenton for dinner at Maria's and then we'll go down to the Shore, check out some bars maybe."

Steve followed Danny back out to the parking lot. "Bars?"

Danny shrugged. "Lots of good music comes from the Jersey Shore. Springsteen still plays there sometimes."

Steve raised an eyebrow at him. "Are we going to see Springsteen?"

Danny just started twirling the car keys around a finger as he walked. "Maybe," was all he would say.

"I hate all music that originates in this state," Steve said just to be spiteful. "Especially Bon Jovi."

Danny unlocked the car while they were still ten yards away. "That's just because you actually do give love a bad name, McGarrett."

They didn't see Springsteen, but Steve would never in a million years admit he actually enjoyed the bands they did catch, in a waterfront bar in Asbury Park. He sat on a tall chair with Danny on one side of him and Maria's husband Dave on the other, his stomach full of roast beef and mashed potatoes and a cold beer in his hand, and let himself relax because it was like all the shore leaves he'd spent in boardwalk bars but not really. It was so much better.

***

They spent the next day hanging out at Danny's parents' house, sleeping late and watching football with Tom. Steve also snacked too much, because he apparently had no willpower anymore and he suspected Shirley was on a mission to make him get fat.

Steve tried, at one point in the afternoon, to recall the last time he'd had a day that lazy, but stopped pretty quickly because the answer was getting more depressing the longer he searched for it.

***

On the 30th, they drove back to Trenton to meet up with Danny's brother Paul for a hockey game. Paul was apparently a big hockey fan; Danny said he liked hockey mostly because it didn't overlap with baseball. The game they went to was apparently one of the farm teams for the New Jersey Devils, and they were playing a team from Cincinnati. It was the first hockey game Steve had ever been to in person.

"Good, huh?" said Paul to him at the first period intermission.

Steve contemplated that. The game itself was pretty good, he supposed; it was, like, AA hockey and a bunch of these kids would go on to play for the NHL. But Steve had come from outside where it was freezing (and snowing a little again) to an indoor arena, where it was still freezing and draft beer was almost ten bucks. Steve's ass was numb from sitting in the cold bleachers and he hadn't even bothered to take his hat off.

"Yeah," he said. "It's great."

Paul clapped him on the shoulder. Steve looked to Danny and caught him smiling proudly at the scene.

Steve watched the zamboni go around the ice and shifted on the bench, trying to warm himself up through the power of positive thinking. When that didn't work, he took another sip of his beer.

***

Steve woke up around ten the next morning and abruptly realized that it was New Year's Eve.

"My folks are going to a party at their friends' house," said Danny over breakfast. "What do you wanna do?"

Steve shrugged. He was as likely as not to celebrate New Year's on any given year, and he didn't really care.

Danny took a bite of his toast and chewed with a thoughtful look on his face. "I guess," he said after he swallowed, "we could go to Times Square, maybe. See the ball drop."

Steve thought about all the people who'd be in Times Square that night and immediately had to think about the ocean instead. Large crowds disagreed with him. This was what being in the military and dealing with terrorists did to a person. "If you want, that's fine," he said in a controlled voice, digging his spoon into his cereal.

"I don't want," said Danny. "But if you're doing the local tourist thing, Times Square at New Year's is probably something you have to see."

"You're so kind and generous," said Steve. "Let's skip the crowds. I hate crowds." It felt kind of good to say that out loud to Danny, since he usually would either push down the anxiety or find another reason to justify avoiding them.

"Okay," said Danny. "I mean, I know you like to beat up perps but I didn't know you hated other people that much."

"I don't," said Steve. "It's just...." He searched for a way to express himself that wasn't going to freak Danny the hell out. He couldn't find one, though, so he just went with a direct explanation. "Suicide bombers."

"What?" said Danny.

"Big crowds are prime targets. All those people packed close together with no room for escape. A significant event like New Year's Eve is even more attractive."

Danny stared at him in silence for a second, his coffee cup raised halfway to his mouth. Finally, he set it down carefully. "You've just ruined large crowds for me forever."

"Sorry," said Steve, not that he really was. Danny was safer avoiding crowds, anyway.

"So we'll stay in Jersey," said Danny. "Bar?"

Steve shrugged.

"Never mind," said Danny, "I have an idea."

"What is it?"

Danny stood up with his coffee cup and walked over to the dishwasher. "It's a surprise."

"Because it's something lame that I'd say no to?"

"You really should have been hugged more as a child, McGarrett."

***

They bummed around the house until eleven, watching Dirty Harry movies because Tom had them all on DVD. Steve was just starting to really wonder where Danny was taking him when Danny looked at his watch and stood up.

"Time to go."

Steve leaned forward in his chair. "Should I change?"

"If you want," said Danny, walking out of the living room.

Danny drove them for twenty minutes, turning the radio up pointedly whenever Steve tried to ask where they were going. Steve sat back and stared out the window, watching trees and buildings and New Year's parties streak by. Then Danny turned and the waterfront opened up outside Steve's window, the river black and the city glowing on the other side of it.

They pulled into a weedy gravel lot not too far from a ferry, passing a 'No Trespassing' sign bolted to a rusting chain link fence. Four other cars sat there; Danny parked at the far end, overlooking the water.

"Is this it?" Steve asked, looking at the city lights in front of them.

"This is it," said Danny.

"Why here? Not that it isn't a nice view."

Danny shifted his seat back a little and relaxed into it. "Used to be a tradition for me to come here on New Year's Eve, for the countdown." He pointed at the dashboard clock; it was almost 11:30. "You can see a lot of fireworks from here, too."

Danny set the radio volume low and they sat in the rental car with the heat on, contemplating the view of the Hudson River and the Manhattan skyline beyond while whatever local rock station was on the radio played a musical retrospective.

"Any resolutions?" Danny asked after a while.

Steve turned his head a little; Danny was still staring out the windshield, his fingertips drumming the rhythm of the song on his knee. "I resolve never to return to New Jersey," he answered.

Danny smirked. "You're a laugh riot."

"I know," said Steve, facing forward again with a grin. "And no, I don't do resolutions. I don't like waiting till January to change things."

Danny hummed at that.

"You?" Steve asked after a while.

"Couple," said Danny. "I want to get to the gym more, since you keep trying to injure me at work. I want to make nice with Rachel so I can spend more time with Grace. I want to learn Pidgin so I can understand what the hell you assholes are all talking about in front of me."

Steve laughed.

"Especially you. You're the biggest asshole."

"Ho, tanks eh?" said Steve.

"This is what I'm saying," Danny protested; he was wound up enough to start talking with his hands.

"But, okay, those are some good resolutions, Danno," Steve said, trying to pacify him.

Danny deflated a little. "Well, I like the whole...." He gestured, trying to come up with the word, " _significance_ , I guess, of using the turn of the year to start doing new things."

"Fair enough," said Steve, and then he leaned forward and turned up the radio a little, because the DJ was starting a countdown.

"Look," said Danny, pointing toward the windshield as the countdown reached ten, "you can see the start of the Times Square fireworks."

Steve looked and saw a few bursts of sparkles go up into the sky, past the buildings. "It's like I'm there," he said.

"This is a great spot," said Danny.

The DJ reached five.

"Ever been to the Times Square thing?" Steve asked.

"Rachel dragged me once, when we first started going out."

Of course. "And then you just started coming here?"

Danny opened his mouth to answer but was interrupted by the DJ yelling, "Happy New Year!" and playing a clip of noisemakers going off; the sky in front of them lit up with fireworks, first from Times Square and then from other, scattered spots through Manhattan and down the shoreline.

Steve let his attention be distracted by the sight for a second before turning back to Danny, who was watching him.

"Fuck it," said Danny finally, and he reached out to haul Steve in for a kiss.

Danny's lips were dry and warm and overwhelming; Steve's eyes slipped shut and he tilted his head for a better angle.

"Happy New Year," said Danny quietly when they pulled apart.

"Happy New Year," Steve answered, his voice coming out raspy. Several more things fought to come out of his mouth at once after that, but he was so confused and overwhelmed that the winner was, "This is your favourite makeout spot, isn't it?"

Danny winced and sat back against the door, about as far as he could get from Steve without leaving the car. "Um."

"Are you wooing me right now?" Steve pointed down between them, at the parking brake and at their situation in general. "Is this a Danny Williams wooing?" He felt like the answer was pretty imperative, because he couldn't take his eyes off of Danny's mouth.

Danny looked back at Manhattan. "Maybe. Sort of. One of my resolutions was to be more assertive this year, and I looked at you just then and decided you were never gonna make a move, so I went ahead and made one."

Steve hadn't really thought too much about the existence of moves to be made. He tried to imagine Danny being more assertive than he already was and didn't know if he was more terrified or turned on by the thought.

"All right," he managed. "So, you've wooed me in a way that feels like it came out of an 80s teen movie, now what, Mr. Assertive?"

"Did you want to go to a bar and forget all this ever happened?"

"No," said Steve, and he leaned in to kiss Danny again.

"Okay," said Danny when they came up for air, the windows fogging up despite the heater still going. "Okay, so maybe we could just go home, because I'm too old and broken to fuck in the backseat of a car."

"So drive," said Steve into the soft skin under Danny's ear.

***

The Williams house was dark and Tom and Shirley's car was still gone when they pulled up to their parking spot; Danny dragged Steve up the front walk by the hand and fumbled his keys trying to unlock the door. Steve shoved him up against the wall in the hallway to mouth his neck and Danny started laughing.

"I thought you were trying to get laid, here," said Steve.

Danny leaned his head back, his eyes squeezed shut; he was laughing too hard to speak. "Just," he gasped, "I'm thirty-five and I'm about to fuck somebody in a twin bed in my parents' house and pray they don't get home before we finish. Some things... some things you never really move past, do you?"

"That's some fucked-up nostalgia," said Steve, kicking off his shoes and tugging Danny's coat off of his shoulders.

Danny took the hint and pulled off his coat the rest of the way, throwing it over a banister. "Yeah, yeah," he said. "Fuck me, McGarrett."

And those three words, coming out of Danny's mouth.... Steve grabbed Danny by the shoulders, turned him, and started herding him up the stairs. "I am going to make you forget your own name," he promised.

"You talk a big game," said Danny, and Steve slapped him on the ass for that, since it was right in front of him.

They barely got the bedroom door shut behind them; Danny turned around and grabbed a handful of Steve's shirt collar, twisting it in his fist and dragging Steve down into a kiss as he backed toward the bed Steve had been sleeping in. Steve licked his way into Danny's mouth and felt his way down from Danny's shoulders to his shirt buttons, undoing them quickly as Danny groaned and dragged his fingertips from Steve's hips to his belt buckle.

Steve broke the kiss only to get them naked a little faster, and then he pushed Danny down onto the bedcovers, crawling up the mattress after him. The curtains were still open and Danny's skin was bluish-silver in the light from the moon and the streetlight outside. "Can I blow you?" Steve asked into Danny's collarbone.

Danny shivered under his lips. "Yes, yes, do it, do it now," he hissed back, clutching Steve's arms and sliding his calf up the back of Steve's thigh.

Steve left a trail of wet kisses down Danny's chest and stomach, feeling the muscles twitch and quiver under his lips and tongue and fingertips. Danny's cock was flushed dark and he made a desperate noise in the back of his throat when Steve wrapped a hand around his shaft. Steve pumped his hand up and down once, drinking in the sight of Danny squirming under him, naked and pale, before shifting down the bed and bending down to suck on the head of his dick.

"Fuck, _Steve_ ," said Danny loudly, twisting his fingers into the covers. Steve watched his chest heave for breath as he slowly sucked his way down Danny's cock, his cheeks hollowing. Steve's knee was braced on the very end of the mattress, and he let his other leg hang straight off the side of the bed, his foot braced on the floor for balance as he bobbed his head up and down.

Danny was staring at the ceiling or had his eyes shut or something, moaning and swearing as Steve blew him. Finally he opened his eyes, tried to get an elbow under him to look down at Steve. "I'm gonna," he started, and then he made eye contact with Steve, bit his lip, and came down the back of Steve's throat.

Steve braced himself to swallow as Danny dropped back onto the bed with a shout; he laid a hand on Danny's hip and felt him shudder, sucking him and wringing his orgasm out of him until Danny sagged, boneless, into the bed. Steve sat up, wiped his mouth, and slid up Danny's body to kiss his throat and up under his jaw. Danny turned his head and caught Steve's lips in a lingering kiss, bringing a heavy arm up to drag his fingers through Steve's hair. Steve hummed in content as Danny licked the taste of himself out of Steve's mouth.

"Jesus," Danny breathed when they broke apart. "That was intense."

"Well, what can I say?" Steve countered, unable to resist. "I'm pretty good."

Danny snorted and bit at Steve's lower lip, shifting his thigh up between Steve's legs and oh, yeah, that felt really good. Steve jerked his hips forward and Danny got a hand on his ass, yanking him down until they were flush against each other. Steve braced his hands on the bed by Danny's shoulders and ground down, thrusting short and hard into Danny's hip.

"Fuck, yeah, do it," Danny mumbled, his limbs still relaxed and loose. Steve buried his face in the crook of Danny's shoulder, sucking a mark into the skin there as he thrust into Danny's sweat-slick skin. Danny finally got a hand around him and Steve lifted his hips as Danny worked him, twisting his wrist. It was good, it was great, Danny underneath him, hot and flushed and fucked-out because of Steve, all his to claim, and Steve shut his eyes and shifted his hips to get a better angle, and then he was tipping sideways and yes, he'd just fallen off the fucking bed.

"Motherfucker," he said loudly to the ceiling, spread-eagled on the carpet. Danny leaned over the edge of the bed and broke down laughing as soon as he saw Steve.

Steve sat up slowly. "Fucking twin beds."

Danny was lying on the bed, his hand over his face, laughing helplessly.

"Yeah, that's sexy." Steve tried to sound bitchy but he heard laughter creeping into his own voice.

"Give--give me a second," said Danny, holding up a shaky finger. Steve sat on the edge of the bed, his erection totally gone, and waited for his asshole partner to get himself back under control.

Danny finally let his hand fall from his eyes and sighed. "I'm going to treasure that moment always," he said.

Steve made to get up. "I'll just go sleep in the other bed," he started, but Danny sat up, grabbed him around the shoulders, and practically tackled him back down onto the bed.

"Where were we?" he said, holding himself over Steve. His hair was going everywhere; Steve had never seen anything hotter.

"You." Steve's mouth was dry. "You were getting me off."

Danny urged him up the bed and shoved him on his side up against the wall, crowding up against him and taking his dick in hand; he pumped slowly, watching Steve's face the entire time, and Steve got hard again almost embarrassingly fast.

"Come for me, Steve," said Danny, rubbing a thumb over the head of his dick and making Steve gasp a little. "Come on," he whispered, "we're in the guest room in my parents' house and they'll be home any minute. They're going to walk in the front door and hear you moaning and then they'll catch us fucking in the twin bed my brother used to sleep in."

Steve came with a choking sound.

"I am not even going to comment on the fact that the idea of getting caught gets you off," said Danny as Steve started to come down from his orgasm. "Sometimes you're too predictable, McGarrett."

"Isn't that a good thing?" mumbled Steve as Danny started yanking out the bedcovers from under them.

"I'll get back to you on that."

"Sure," said Steve through a yawn, yanking half of the pillow toward him as they settled in. He fell asleep with a hand resting on Danny's hip.

***

Steve woke up warm, with someone's arm tucked against his stomach. He blinked awake and realized it was Danny pressed all along his back, so he stretched a little and drifted off again.

The second time he woke up was when Danny rolled onto his back. Steve shifted over as much as he could in the tiny bed. "Morning," he said.

"Morning," said Danny.

They looked at each other for a minute before Steve decided to break the silence.

"What are your thoughts on morning sex?" he asked.

"By far the best part of morning," Danny answered, and so Steve guessed it was all good, not just some random New Year's mistake. Just the normal kind of mistake. Terrible and awesome.

"You know," said Danny, "during this trip, every single one of my brothers and sisters has asked me if I realize I have a type and then congratulated me on getting remarried so soon."

Steve thought about that, and then about the poker game at Christmas. "Your brothers and sisters terrify me." Since he was nothing like Rachel, Steve decided to ignore the argument that Danny had a type.

"Well, to be fair, they all noticed that you call me Danno, and I told you that name is Grace's territory. That, and you're only the second person I've ever brought home for Christmas."

Steve sagged into the bed. "The other one was Rachel."

"Yeah." Danny had the grace to sound a little sheepish.

"You could tell me things like this ahead of time."

Danny rolled over and looked at him. "But your Aneurysm Face feels like a little victory every time I see it."

"I hate you," said Steve with feeling.

"No, you don't," said Danny, running a hand up Steve's chest.

Steve caught Danny's hand and laced their fingers together. "No, I don't," he conceded.

 

THE END


End file.
